My dad’s family has a tradition of going on an annual hiking trip. Chasing the outdoors and challenging their bodies with any form of movement is what I know my uncles, aunties and dad for. I think it’s what attributes to their well-known optimism.
You can hear a Wright laughing from a mile away.
When I was little, the hiking trip included the whole family coming along. One significant memory stands out from these trips. We were washing dishes after dinner in the kitchen, each with our own role of washing, drying, or putting the dishes away. As we cleaned, we danced. One song was so enjoyable, we played it on repeat. There were so many of us we probably would have finished the dishes quickly if we stuck to the job at hand. But dancing around the kitchen, playing fake instruments and uncontrollable laughing made it all the more fun.
The song was ‘The Romp’ by Australian band, My Friend The Chocolate Cake.
Still to this day, my family is known for shamelessly dancing at big events. Fiftieths, house warmings, farewells, it doesn’t matter. If there’s some catchy music on, they’ll find a reason to get down.
Watching them is contagious. They don’t ever appear to be even a little nervous or shy to sing and move around in front of a busy room of people, and it’s because they aren’t.
This thrill of movement has spilled into my own life. One of my favourite things to do is dance with my friends. We dance without worry and only with laughter and silliness. This must be one of life's greatest gifts.
My family has also passed onto me my music taste. From dad, I’ve grown a massive appreciation for local Australian music. From mum, the classics. As for my sister, I owe her for introducing me to good music. And I hope to pass that onto my brother. Connecting with family through music has been such a big part of my life.
Growing up, as a family we would eat dinner together most nights, or as much as possible. We would find time between the after school sports, my parent’s long work days, and preferably after our nightly watch of The Simpsons. We would often help out with the creation of dinner as Mum was adamant to teach us how to cook from a young age and we’ve all carried that enjoyment of cooking to this day. When we sat down, Dad would put on the same playlist every single time.
Paul Kelly, INXS, Cold Chisel to start. Then mum’s music influence came in with Sinead O’Connor, The Beatles and George Michael. Following on, it would include much more that likely replicates the music preferences of those who were in their youth during the peak of the 80s and 90s in Australia and England.
We came to remember this playlist by heart. The music was once part of our routine, and now it is ingrained in me as a memory. I hold this nostalgia close and lean into it when I need the reminders of how good things can be.
Currently, I like to use music to remind me of the people now in my past. Having lost my Grandad last year, I’ve found myself reaching for CDs we played when he was around. Sunday roasts and special occasions with Grandad and mum’s side were spent listening to Irish folk music.
With Grandad and my late Grandma growing up in Ireland, it has become a practice of mine to search through Irish artists to connect to their heritage. It’s allowed me to discover a whole range of music, old and new, that I’m incredibly grateful to have in my life now. The experience has helped me move through my grieving in a way I haven’t done before.
I find the evergreen twining between family and music to be interesting as it is something that many people can relate to, yet is unique for everyone. It’s tied to culture, tradition, and legacy and is passed onto us like a family heirloom.
Whether we accept and nourish it is up to us, and we have the choice to continue, change, or update narrative to the next generation. On the whole, I am excited to see what is yet to come.
